


Lucky Man

by zelda_zee



Category: White Collar
Genre: Elizabeth Approves, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-05
Updated: 2009-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth lays her cards on the table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Man

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://halfdutch.livejournal.com/profile)[**halfdutch**](http://halfdutch.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

“I spent nearly seven years hating you, you know,” Neal says, with a little sigh. He's looking out over Manhattan, distracted by the late autumn sun casting a silvery light on the city.

Elizabeth’s expression doesn’t change, other than one delicately arched eyebrow. “Did you?”

Neal looks down, suddenly embarrassed at his confession. They’re on their second bottle of Pinot Noir and the wine has loosened his tongue. He fiddles with his goblet, watching the ruby liquid swirl, leaving a pink sheen on the sides of the glass.

“Neal,” Elizabeth prompts, in a voice that says she’s not going to let him wriggle out of an explanation.

“It’s hard to explain,” he begins. He glances at Elizabeth and then away again. “Those three years when Peter was on my trail… I’d never had anyone who was able to keep up before – or almost keep up, anyway. No one even came close. And then Peter was onto me, and suddenly it all became that much more –” He lifts his glass, draining it, then holds the bottle up. “Wine?”

Elizabeth just gives him a _look_ , so he shrugs and refills his own glass.

“More _what_ , Neal?”

“More - interesting. More exciting. It was like, I wasn’t alone anymore. I can’t explain it – it was like he _knew_ me, before he ever met me.” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could someone like Peter ever understand a person like me?”

“What about Kate?” Elizabeth asks. “Didn’t she understand you?”

Neal eyes slide to the side. “That’s different,” he says quietly. “Kate has nothing to do with what I’m talking about.”

Elizabeth watches him for a moment while he keeps his expression completely neutral. “Okay,” she says and Neal breathes a soundless sigh of relief. He does not want to talk about Kate. It’s too painful right now, an ache in his heart that he doesn't think will ever go away, and maybe that’s how it has to be, but it doesn’t mean he wants to talk about it. He tucks Kate away again in a corner of his mind, and closes the door on that for the moment. Neal’s good at compartmentalizing. He wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did if he wasn’t.

Elizabeth considers him, a funny crooked grin tugging at her lips. “You liked having all Peter’s attention focused on you, didn’t you? Every move you made, every little thing you did -- all that focus directed right at you.” She leans forward, elbows on the table, fixing Neal with an all-too-certain stare. “You liked the chase. You liked being pursued. Desired. _Wanted_. Question is, did you want to be the one that gets away – or the one that gets caught?”

Neal's brow crinkles for just a moment, before he realizes and smooths out his expression. She's hit a little too close to home though, and it's making him nervous. He really doesn't want Peter's wife coming down on him for taking up too much of Peter's attention - even though he knows he does; even though he makes every effort to take up as much of it as possible.

“I don’t – of course I didn’t want to get caught,” he scoffs.

“Not by just anyone,” Elizabeth allows. “But then, Peter was the only one who ever stood a chance of catching you.”

It’s not often that Neal doesn't have an easy reply on the tip of his tongue, and it’s not often that he can’t figure out the underlying meaning of what someone’s saying. But he finds that right now, he’s so damned unsure of what Elizabeth is talking about that he doesn’t dare say a word. He’s certain that there’s an undercurrent to this conversation, but at the same time he can't believe that Elizabeth understands the importance of Peter in his life. He desperately wishes for the distraction of a cigarette, though with the exception of Mozzie’s message-passing technique he hasn’t smoked in years. He forces steadiness into his hands and takes a sip of wine and then he says, “I did not want to be caught, Elizabeth.” He pauses, then concedes. “But if it had to happen, I’m glad it was Peter.”

“I don’t think he wanted to catch you,” Elizabeth says, and Neal laughs in disbelief.

“Are you kidding? He was like a terrier after a rat for three years. He never let up.”

“Yes, I know. Believe me, Neal, _I know_. Still, it was hard for him when it was over. He’d never admit it, but a part of him didn’t want you to get caught. I think he would have been happy to keep chasing you forever.”

 _And I would have been happy to have been chased forever_ , Neal thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He has a feeling that Elizabeth knows it anyway.

“Sometimes it felt like Peter was as much married to you as to me for those years. I thought I'd get him back when you went to prison, and I mostly did." Elizabeth smiles ruefully. " _Mostly._ Fortunately, I’m good at sharing.”

“Oh, come on,” Neal protests, because he has to, even if hearing that he'd played such a major role in Peter's life sets off a warm glow in his stomach. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” she says, and she smiles a smile that says he’s totally not fooling her.

“I’m totally not fooling you, am I?”

“Not even a little bit,” Elizabeth says.

“I knew about you, back then,” Neal admits. “I knew a lot about Peter. I had to know, because that was the only way to stay a step ahead of him. In the end, it wasn’t enough, but… Anyway, I knew he was married.” He hesitates, searching for the right words, before he realizes that there are no right words for this. “I didn’t like it. I didn’t like sharing him.”

He doesn’t mention the times he watched them – in restaurants and shops, how he tailed them when they went for walks on weekend mornings, how he followed them to Lake Placid once when they were there for a long weekend. He doesn’t think Elizabeth would appreciate knowing any of that. Even Neal finds it a little creepy, and he’s the one who did it.

“You wanted him all for yourself,” Elizabeth says quietly.

“Sometimes it felt like – it was so _everything_ – the chase, or whatever you want to call it. So _intense_. Sometimes it was like there was only the two of us, playing this insane game of chess. He'd make a move, and I'd counter it... we were perfectly matched. I can’t explain the way it made me feel.” He glances up at her. “I’m a selfish person. A selfish, greedy, adrenaline junkie. All the things you love about Peter? Well, I'm the opposite. I didn’t care about the kinds of things he does - hard work and whether you deserve what you have or whether something was legal or moral. I didn’t care about being a good person. All I cared about was the game and the score and getting away with it. For years I faked everything in my life. _Everything_. And then, _finally_ , someone figured me out.” He meets Elizabeth’s eyes. “Yeah, I wanted him all for myself.”

"And now?"

"Now it's different. You don't come out of four years in prison the same as you went in. At least I didn't."

Elizabeth leans back in her chair and regards him, twirling her wine glass by the stem, letting the silence between them lengthen.

“So here’s the thing, Neal. You can’t have Peter all for yourself, but you can have a part of him. Hell, you’ve already got a part of him, so that’s nothing new. It’s just – now that you’re going to be working together, I can see how it’s going to go. I’m not blind.”

“Elizabeth –” Neal tries to marshal his thoughts. "Are we talking about what I think we're talking about? Because if -"

“Just let me finish,” she interrupts. “Just let me say this, because it has to be said. I’m not one of those women who’s willing to live in denial. I know you’ve made a career of lying, but I’m not going to let you lie about this, not when it’s about Peter.”

Neal’s heart is pounding and he’s sweating, nervous like he hasn’t been since his first days in prison. _Why can’t we lie about it?_ , he wants to ask her. _I’d really much prefer to lie about it, if it’s all the same to you._

“He won’t turn you down,” she says, voice steady, no hesitation, no quavering, and Neal can’t help but admire it. Elizabeth has the kind of nerve that would have made her an amazing con artist. “If you want him, he won’t turn you away.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Neal protests.

“Then you don’t know him as well as you think you do. He still has all those cards you sent him. Every one. He keeps them in a drawer in his desk. I caught him reading them again just the other night. The truth is you’ve been a part of my relationship with Peter for so long that I can hardly recall what it was like before you. He may not be willing to admit it - he may not know _how_ to admit it - but he wants you, Neal.”

“He’d never cheat on you,” Neal says. Neal would lay money on Peter being incapable of infidelity. That steadfast loyalty is one of the things Neal admires about him. It's something he's had precious little experience of in his own life.

“He wouldn’t have to. If I give him permission, it’s not cheating.”

Neal shakes his head in incomprehension. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s simple. I love him. And I want him to be happy." She gives Neal a stern look. "You'd have to share though. I'm not letting you steal my husband.”

"I don't want to steal your husband," Neal says quickly. "I don't know if you can believe me, but I swear, that's not what I want. And even if I did, Peter would never leave you - not for anyone, and certainly not for me."

"I want to trust you, Neal," Elizabeth says. "I guess time will tell."

“If - if we do this, and someone found out - he'd get fired, wouldn't he?”

One side of Elizabeth’s mouth crooks into a wry smile. “Yes, and you'd be back in prison."

Neal's eyes widen and he draws thumb and forefinger across his mouth, zipping it shut.

Elizabeth pours herself the last of the Pinot, downs a large swallow. “I notice you’re not trying to convince me that you're not interested.”

“Well, obviously, you’d never believe me.”

“Obviously.” The gleam in her eye is almost mischievous.

“How on earth did you end up with Peter?” he asks. “Does he know how lucky he is?”

“I like the good guys,” Elizabeth informs him. “And yes, he knows.”

There's a pause, but it's not an uncomfortable one. Neal tries to digest everything they've been talking about, but that's a tall order. He's mostly just stuck on the idea that Elizabeth is too good to be true. He'd think she's trying to put something over on him, except that she's Elizabeth, and if there's one thing he's learned about her over the course of their short acquaintance, it's that she has a very low tolerance for bullshit.

“Give it a little time,” Elizabeth says. “Let me see what I can do. And you just keep doing what you do best.” Elizabeth smiles at him fondly. “Flirt with him. Tease him. Look hot. Be adorable – oh, and smart. He’s told me all about how he likes it that you’re so smart.”

Neal sits up straighter, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. Peter likes it that he’s smart. That’s… hell, that’s pretty awesome.

“Peter needs to come around to the idea on his own, Neal. He’s not the type of man to rush into things, especially not something like this.”

“Yeah,” agrees Neal. “I figured out that spontaneity isn’t Peter’s strong suit a long time ago.”

“He can be – impetuous though, at times.” Elizabeth winks at Neal like she knows some deep, dark secret about him, and Neal guesses that she does. “I bet you’d like that.”

Neal smiles and shakes his head and tries very hard not to think about what Peter might be like when he’s being impetuous. It’s not until he hears Elizabeth laugh that he realizes that he’s staring at nothing with a goofy grin on his face. He can’t help it – inside he’s buzzing and jittering and he’s pretty sure he’s floating a couple of inches off the ground.

He’s got that feeling again, the one he gets when he’s playing a con and he still doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to pull it off; like he had when he was one short step ahead of Peter, using all his wits just to keep it that way; like he felt walking out of prison in plain sight of guards and inmates he’d seen every day for nearly four years, and no one stopping him. It’s heat in his belly, it’s free-falling, it’s a joyful leap into the unknown. It’s wanting something down to your very bones, and thinking that just maybe, by something that Neal is quite certain can be classified as a miracle, you just might be able to have it.

There’s a noise, and they both look up to see Peter standing in the doorway to the rooftop. His eyes take in the wine bottles and their empty glasses. He gives Elizabeth a questioning look, but she only smiles innocently at him and shifts her gaze to Neal. Peter looks at him then, and Neal flushes, feels his skin heat until he knows it must be obvious. He grips the edges of his chair, holding on tight. It’s crazy, how much harder it is to play it cool all of a sudden.

“So,” Peter says, looking suspiciously back and forth between them. “What have you two been up to?”

  



End file.
